Destiny Arc: Home Stories
by Ammykace
Summary: Five stories in which it tells of Edward trying to make it home from Germany, back to Amestris. Dark. Ed/Russell
1. Homeward Bound

Homeward Bound

**Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved. - William Jennings Bryan**

'Separate universes are destined to be as they are named; kept separate. No part should cross, interlope or merge together, for to break such a fundamental part of nature, both entities should cease to exist.'

Edward Elric looked up from the passage he was reading with a sigh. From what he could tell, the world around him hadn't yet collapsed, and there was no indication of it merging. Wouldn't he have noticed if it had? He had thought, of course, at times that it had merged, but people, countless people whom he'd known their likeness in Amestris had no clue who he was.

Then again, philosophy was speculation for a reason and he very much doubted the author had ever been to another world altogether.

It was disheartening. It was difficult. It was hopeless.

For Edward, five years had passed. Five long, horrible, arduous years had passed. Vaguely, he wondered if time passed the same in this strange world like it had at home. Five years here had felt longer then they would have at home. Perhaps the absence of much of his previous lifestyle accented that.

Loneliness had probably contributed as well. Quiet life didn't seem to suit Edward Elric. A life where his knowledge was useless, wandering cost too much and his body was left to technology, which betrayed all expectations he used to have from the automail. Things weren't easy in this alchemy-less world.

At twenty-one, Edward had certainly grown into his looks. It didn't hurt that he had added height to his previously short stature (not that he towered over anyone, but at least he looked average) and his long hair had grown out even longer. He'd become leaner, less muscular, but still a decent match should he be accosted, and his golden eyes had darkened with age, but were still expressive as ever. He was by far one of the most fantastic available bachelors in his neighbourhood, limbs not withstanding.

He sighed. Birds were chirping outside and Edward was far too distracted to deal with studying anymore today. He slammed the book shut, with his good hand and rose from the desk. It didn't matter, he needed to sleep anyway. After three days straight, he was due for a break. Edward stepped to the door and paused to pick up the tray that had been left there with his breakfast. At least the old man new better then to disturb him.

For some reason, Ed's mind settled on his old man as he stuffed the pieces of dry toast into his mouth. As much as Edward wanted to hate him, which he did, he had to give the man credit. Despite their past, once thrust into this foreign world, his father had stepped up to take care of him at last. Ironic, wasn't it? Edward scoffed to the empty room. Ironic that it only took nearly dying and leaving Amestris and alchemy behind to gain attention from his own father. Grudgingly, Edward had to admit that Hoenheim took decent care of him. The man had procured his prosthetic limbs, fed him three times a day, got him access to the university's library and generally left him alone for the most part.

The oatmeal the man had left for him was cool, but that didn't deter Ed. He gobbled it up greedily, not wasting a single oat. Food was hard to come by in Munich, supplies scarce as the depression took its toll. Living off the land was also unacceptable in this world, though not for any reason Edward could see, except to keep the proletariat dependent on the bourgeoisie. This world was just plain stupid.

Breakfast packed away in his stomach, Edward fell back on the floor in his bedroom. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. For all the problems Amestris had, at least it was a fair place to live, if you didn't count being slaughtered by the military. But people here did it too, in wars that maybe didn't have to happen, maybe that was something that transcended worlds? Edward could be interested in such a subject, if he had the time to research it, but no, he wished to pass through the gate before he turned twenty-two. There was a deep sigh that came from deep in his chest before he closed his eyes to doze off to sleep.

Edward awoke with the sound of the door opening. He rubbed his eyes to clear the bleary vision and looked up and saw the bearded face of Hoenheim Elric. The man was thin, thinner then usual and looked a little sickly. Clearly his 'illness' was taking its toll on the old man's body. He watched as the tall blond leaned down and picked up the discarded tray.

"How are your studies going, Edward?"

"Fine, Hoenheim." Edward answered and watched the man grimace and shift. He never said anything, but deep down Ed knew it bothered him that he didn't get the title of father he so rightly didn't deserve. Just because the man was uncomfortable, however, didn't mean it was going to stop him from doing it. He deserved that discomfort.

"Are you taking a break?"

God, the man was so...obvious sometimes. Edward rolled his eyes. "No, I'm just lying here and waiting for the array to kick in."

Hoenheim blinked a few times. "I see."

Ed sighed. Sarcasm was lost on his father. "I'm taking a break because I can't concentrate and when that happens, it means I've had enough for a little while."

"I see." The man cracked a smile and chuckled at Edward's joke, as if it were actually funny.

Another deep sigh emanated from Edward. It was going to be a long lifetime if he had to stay here with him.

Most of the time, Edward was in his own little world. His behind was plopped on an old wooden chair, books spread out on the desk in front of him as he jotted down notes and read passages. Sometimes he heard the animals outside chirping and scavenging as they fought over scraps of food. Other times he noticed the front door opening and closing as Hoenheim went out to...well wherever the hell it was he went. Worst of all, he noticed the silence that filled the room. If they could have afforded a radio, he'd turn it on, but they couldn't afford it or to waste the electricity that way. Edward missed his brother, the way Alphonse worked and shifted and the way they discussed and debated over stupid points in a book.

He would give almost anything to be reunited with Al. Any time he was in this melancholy mood, work took a back seat. The pen was tossed aside, still on the table, but out of the way, the notebook was pushed to the edge and the useless arm was folded on the wooden desk before Edward's forehead was propped up on it.

Dreams came to him easily in this fitful sleep and mostly the dreams were good which is why he kept up with it. Regular, long hours of sleep brought along nightmares of reaching arms and grinning homonculi. Dreams of death, fire and that eerie red light swallowing up thousands of lives... all things Edward could live without, no, needed to live without. So, he slept in naps and he dreamed of his brother, alive and whole, grinning at him with a tooth missing, or running through the fields of Rizenbul with himself and Winry.

These dreams he cherished instead of banished.

If Hoenheim noticed the fact he rarely slept, the man never said anything. Edward had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the listless, pasty look of his skin where it had once been darkened with a tan. He looked almost sickly himself, but he supposed that's what life was like in this world, where people were sick and starving and life ended for far too many on any given day.

Winter came, of course, inevitably. The rough winds shook the apartment complex where they were renting their rooms from and the wood and glass squeaked and strained to hold the place together, just like it had for the past five years. Like those years past, it triumphed once more and paid its debt to those living there by not collapsing in a heap on top of them.

With winter, came the chill that settled in the apartment and didn't leave for four months. Edward always knew when it was coming in the beginning, because where his limb twice were ached unbearably, and he always ran a fever, but within a day he was well enough to continue working. Unfortunately this year, the chill was somehow worse, the temperatures lower then the year before. While reading, Edward could see his breath, no matter what he did and his fingers were numb and sore alternating from the frigid air.

It was when he started coughing and it persisted that Hoenheim finally spoke up.

"You know, Ed, I think you need to rest."

"Don't tell me what to do old man." Edward growled at him.

"Edward, you're sick."

"I'm not sick!" The blond raged, standing up to argue this to the death if he had to. He hadn't counted on swaying back and forth a few moments before falling forward, and he definitely hadn't counted on Hoenheim catching him.

"You need to be in bed."

For once, Edward couldn't muster an argument.

As the days passed, Edward grew worse and worse. He had a fever most of the time and really didn't know what was going on anymore. There was always a cool cloth resting against his forehead, blankets piled on him as much as he could stand and warm soup being forced down his throat. Many times he saw Alphonse, eyes bright with life, but concerned, always concerned as he was watched over.

If Hoenheim heard him cry out for his baby brother, he was kind enough not to bring it up. Edward had to admit, when the illness was shaking his immune system, his father had stepped up again. Maybe the man wasn't as bad as he feared.

He still hated him though. That was his right.

The new year came and to celebrate, Hoenheim and purchased a small roast and cooked it. To celebrate, Edward left his room for a change and ate with his father at the table. There was no talk, that would have been too awkward, but silence instead. The silence wasn't as deafening as it once was, and was almost comfortable. Like Edward had settled into a silent routine with his father, one of understanding simply for the sake of cohabitation.

After they were full, completely full for the first time in ages, Edward looked up when Hoenheim spoke. He'd been lost in thought, so he hadn't caught what was being said. "Pardon?"

"Follow me. I've found a way to send you home and we're going to do it tonight."

Edward swallowed nervously. Would his father tease him about this? Maybe. He hoped not. He got up quickly and chased after the man. A small part of him called him pathetic for holding onto such hope but he kicked it aside. He was going home!

For the first time since he arrived, Edward entered Hoenheim's bedroom. An array was drawn on the floor which made the young man cock his head to the side. He was positive there was no alchemy in this world.

"Edward, I'm sorry you've had to endure this."

"What are you talking about, old man?"

Hoenheim walked out into the middle of the array. Edward stepped forward to the edge, but refused to follow him further. "Are you insane?"

Hoenheim chuckled softly. "No, Ed, I'm not insane. I owe you. I've owed you and your brother a lot...so I've been researching how to get you home while you've been cooped up in that room of yours. I've found a way."

Edward raised an eyebrow. His _father_ had found the way home? How had he missed this?! "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was making peace...saving it for tonight, because tonight is special. I've lived for myself, but you've lived for Al, who I should have been looking after, not you. So...I'm prepared and willing to die for you, Edward."

"What?!" Edward flailed, looking really uncertain. He watched Hoenheim lean down to touch the line with his fingers before he took a knife and while looking at Edward, he added another nightmare to his son's roster, the memory of his father slitting his throat. The jugular sliced, the blood splattered everywhere, including Edward's clothing.

Edward screamed.

The scream broke the silence in the golden yellow realm. Edward wondered where it was coming from and how to make it stop. It took a few moments to register in his mind that the raw, animal-like scream plaguing his senses was his own. He willed his brain to work and the screaming stopped.

Two dark, creepy, familiar doors loomed before him, ominously projecting that sense of dread that always overflowed his senses when Edward saw the gate. Time stopped. His breath hitched. There was no sound, no movement and no senses in this hellish Purgatory. It was shaming to think that _this_ was familiar, _this_ is what Edward had longed for for five whole years! He'd lived and worked towards this moment. Remembering that breathing meant living, Edward exhaled the breath he was holding hostage and panted softly to regain his composure. Tremors shot up and down his spine. He didn't know whether to be afraid or excited, so he shook, clenching his good fist at his side. This was it, the moment of truth. Edward was staring down the very thing that could take him to Al, or tear him apart.

A screech rippled through Hell as the massive doors slowly opened. Sweat trickled down the back of Edward's neck, leaving an uncomfortable feeling where the pony tail rested at the nape. He licked his lips and took deep breaths to try and prepare himself, no matter the outcome. His eyes were focused solely on the infinite abyss he could see through that doorway. The darkness sprouted tendrils, grabbing hands and black faces with eerie purple eyes that lived only in his worst nightmares and in this very moment.

There was a snap and thick, dark tentacles shot out towards Edward. The young man took a few final deep breaths of air to compose himself and closed his eyes as the ghastly vessels of the gate snaked around his waist, wrapped around his arms and entwined the circumference of Edward's legs. It wasn't like him to be resigned to his fate, to let destiny come to him, but he had no choice but to submit to the gate's will. He put all of his anger and drive aside for a fleeting moment.

A quick jerk pulled the blond, hurtling him towards the void. As the doors closed behind him, Edward couldn't help broadcasting a mental prayer to every God in existence that he'd ever heard of. Just this once, he had to resign himself to fate and faith in the one person he hated most on Earth.

_Please...let me make it home._


	2. Home Is Where The Heart Is

Home Is Where the Heart Is

**No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently. - Agnes de Mille**

Something was moving along his thigh. Scratching at him. The same movements came to Edward's shoulders and he nearly cried out. He couldn't see anything. Why couldn't he see anything? His breathing got ragged, escaping in little bursts as panic settled heavily on his chest. Was this the end?

Oh. His eyes were closed. Edward winced and remedied that and immediately regretted it. His pupils were assaulted with that yellow glowing light, making him wish he'd kept his eyes closed. A tendril from this horrific torture master slid between his legs and around his abdomen. It squeezed, making the blond cry out. It continued sliding up the middle of his chest and then around the back of his neck. Edward swallowed, nervous.

Then the tentacle closed in on itself and squeezed. His mouth open in a silent scream, Edward thrashed against his holds, looking for air that wasn't coming. Finally the light faded as his eyelids came down involuntarily, and he lost consciousness.

Blue light crackled in the darkness of night in Central City. The light ejected the gate's blond passenger, the young man landed in a heap. Edward lay there motionless, letting the cool air slowly rouse him from his unnatural sleep. He remained so when the awoke, keeping his eyes closed, afraid of another assault by the unnatural light.

A few moments passed and that fear was gone. The blond sat up, rubbing his eyes with two warm hands, like a sleepy child. He looked around, bewildered at the buildings, street lamps and cobblestone street of Central. This was a place that felt familiar, as well as it should, the city having shaped part of Edward's adolescence.

Confusion haunted the depth of his eyes as he frowned at his hands. Something was strange and out of place, but for the life of him he couldn't recall what it was. Placing his right palm on the ground, he hefted himself up to his feet and stood under one of the dim lamps, staring up at the stars. The sky looked familiar too. Familiarity is all that kept Edward's head on straight.

"Where...am I?" He whispered.

People were avoiding him. This made Edward frown and tap a finger to his lips. He was walking around somewhere that seemed nice and comfortable. The ground was lush with cool grass that slipped up the cuffs of his pants, tickling his ankles and there were flowers dotted here and there in patches. Along the perimeter of this enclosure, there were trees to shield the smaller humans from going out in front of those contraptions that drove on the pavement. He'd tried reaching out to a little person, finding them to be less intimidating, but then a big one came and yelled at him, taking the small one away. This merely confused him, after all, his pleas to her to ask if 'Pervert' was his name went unheeded. Perhaps she didn't know him after all.

Or, perhaps, no one understood him. Nicer people he had stopped to ask where he was not only looked at him strange, but didn't seem to understand what he meant. However, Edward understood them, which was just as mind boggling as to how it was they couldn't communicate. What had happened?

Another type of person was the kind who fussed over him. He was incredibly dirty, this he knew, but he'd been on the ground, so this was of no surprise to him. But one young woman had asked him if he was hurt. Edward had had to reflect on what she meant by hurt but ended up shaking his head. She'd pointed to some stains on his clothes – why were his clothes so different from theirs anyway? - and remarked that it looked like he was bleeding.

Edward didn't like the fussing, so he'd thanked her and just shook his head. He could tell she couldn't understand him, but she did understand the head shake, and with that she left him alone. That felt natural as well, being alone and being ignored. Edward could get used to that.

If only he could figure out who he was, where he was and what he was doing there.

There was a strip of dirt among the grass of that enclosed place, so Edward followed it. It was after all, something to do. It led to an opening in the trees and he stepped past it and found himself looking at some buildings that looked very familiar. Eyes darting side to side, something he'd seen other humans do, he walked across the street when there were no machines hurdling down the pavement at him. It was best to avoid them, he'd noticed and decided. They looked strong, and from what he could tell, couldn't answer his questions. None of the other people consulted them, after all. Just each other.

Edward walked slowly, step by step along the storefronts, looking into each of the windows curiously. Many things had tags with numbers on them and he wondered what that was about. He watched as a human went into a store with... clothing, his mind provided, and took the numbered thing from the display. Then he watched as the two people passed paper between them and then the customer took a bag with the item she wanted into her hand and left.

Tossing his curiosity aside for the moment, Edward walked to the next store and peered inside. There were screws, bolts and other mechanic equipment here. He took a step to move on, since none of these things looked familiar to him and froze on the cusp of the doorway.

_You'll buy this for me, won't you?_

A woman's voice took over his senses, calling out to him, so he whirled around, looking for the woman who was calling to him. There wasn't another soul in sight. Edward chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what to do.

"Who am I?" He asked the voice, but it didn't reply.

Russell Tringham was walking along in Central. It was a beautiful spring day, not too cool and the sun was shining down on them. He was on a book run, for he was studying for the National Alchemist exams. Although the government had changed, they still had use for alchemists, but not to the destructive capacity they wanted them for before. He was hoping to get the funds to research medicinal plants to aid researchers with medications that the population so desperately needed. Suddenly, in his vision he saw a ghost and his breath hitched.

Someone who looked remarkably like Edward Elric was standing in front of a shop window, seeming lost and confused. He was dressed oddly, in shoes, not boots, brown pants had replaces his black leather and it was an actual suit. Russell had to rub his eyes in disbelief. He _couldn't_ have been Edward Elric. He never pictured the blond in a suit. Aside from that, he was too tall, and... his breath caught again when he caught sight of those enchanting golden eyes that made the teen so unique.

The only thing more alarming was the fact he was splattered with blood. Before Russell could think, his feet were bringing him closer to the man. If it was Edward... no, he wouldn't dare to hope, not yet.

"Edward?" He asked softly.

The figure before him didn't give him his attention and muttered something in a language he couldn't understand. It was unlikely he was Ed after all. Still, he was covered in blood. Maybe he was injured. Russell reached out and gently placed his hand on Edward's right forearm. "Are you alright?" The arm through the material was warm. No, this couldn't be him... just his doppelganger.

Golden eyes flashed towards him and an answer poured out from his lips. He didn't understand it, but that voice... this had to be Edward! It could be no one else. "Come on..." Russell encouraged. "Talk to me in Amestrian!"

The young man in front of him frowned and said something else. Russell sighed. "Do you even understand me?"

Edward nodded.

"Are you Edward Elric?"

His eyes widened and the words came rapidly then, but Russell still didn't understand.

"Focus!"

Something seemed to snap within Edward and he realized he wasn't being understood and suddenly, words Russell could comprehend came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Do you know... who I am?"

Russell couldn't help it, he _gaped_ at Edward. "You don't know who you are?"

Edward shook his head. "I... don't know anything."

The elder Tringham frowned. There was a possibility this wasn't Edward, after all, everyone believed he was dead. He ran his gaze from head to toe, looking Edward over. He was the right age, still short comparatively and had those expressive gold eyes that haunted his dreams and memories of the boy he once knew. "Absolutely nothing?"

The young man before him shook his head again.

Russell sighed and took his right hand. It was warm through the glove. "Come with me. You need to be cleaned up and checked over. I think you might be hurt... especially if you don't remember anything."

"Do you know who I am?"

There was a pause. Russell shook his head. "I don't know."

Edward held on tightly to Russell as he was being pulled through the streets of Central, streets he should recognize, but didn't. He kept looking around, keeping his gaze everywhere but the broad back escorting him along. At least the mystery was solved as to why no one could understand him. That had been frustrating. So now he was speaking Amestrian. What had it been before? He couldn't remember... deep down he must know though, Edward concluded. After all, he was speaking that language fluently.

When he tripped over a rock, he decided he could worry about it later.

They were in a hospital, the stranger who had pulled him along had informed him. The two of them were sitting shoulder to shoulder on uncomfortable plastic chairs. Something clicked in Edward's mind and he turned to the blond who dragged him. "What's your name?"

"Russell." Russell answered absently.

"Something about you is familiar." Edward murmured softly. It was like he'd seen the man before, like he was getting a sense of deja vu. He didn't take any notice of the man looking at him rapidly, because he was too lost in thought. He wondered what was going on.

It didn't take long for them to be led into a room. Russell stayed with him, for which he was thankful. There was a bed there, so he sat down upon it, as directed. Edward played with the little paper sheet idly as he waited for the doctor to examine him.

The whole exercise was tedious. The man carefully rid him of his clothes, shined a bright light in his eyes that made him want to recoil from his touch, examined his scalp and let down his hair.. it was a lot of trouble for Edward feeling fine. Aside from a few telltale scars, at least to Russell, there was nothing wrong with him, besides the fact the doctor declared he had amnesia.

As the doctor left and Edward was pulling on his clothes once more, he could feel Russell's eyes on him, staring at him and watching him intensely. He had been ever since Edward's shirt had been removed, showing off the scars that came from automail attachment – at least where the bolts would have gone in for the port. The same effect had been found on the young man's leg as well. It was unnerving though, to be examined so critically.

"Let's go. You can stay with me." Russell whispered.

The tone made Edward look at him closely and he saw that the taller man was pale and shaking slightly. Worried, Edward moved over quickly. "You're okay?"

The other man smiled. "Yes, I'm okay. Come on."

Edward looked down as Russell grabbed his hand and tugged him along again toward an apartment on the East side of Central.

Russell was scared. This couldn't possibly be just a coincidence! It was like the man had had automail. No one grew back limbs like that. The placement of the scars were exactly where Edward had had his automail. The evidence was just piling up. He was grateful that his charge was quiet, because frankly, he couldn't handle a discussion right now.

He let them into his apartment and gestured that Edward should make himself comfortable before locking up. He looked the blond up and down and chewed on his lower lip nervously. "I have to tell you something."

Those eyes turned to him immediately and focused on him with intensity that just screamed Edward Elric. The young man shifted on his feet nervously, wondering what this great revelation was going to be.

Russell sighed. "You have to be Edward Elric... even if you don't remember."

"Edward... that's my name?"

"Yes." Russell said softly. He didn't know if he was going crazy, but it sure felt like it. Edward Elric was dead, but here he was, pushing the man's life on this stranger who didn't know better because he had amnesia.

"I like it. It feels right."

Russell sucked in a breath, feeling the guilt rise. This sick fantasy he was involving himself in was only getting worse. He knew he should stop, because Edward wasn't going to come back from the dead, but for the time being, until this man could remember, he could indulge in his fantasy for a little longer. "Good."

"I wish I could remember." His Edward said.

Russell had to turn and walk away into the kitchen, eyes brimming with tears of shame.


End file.
